


Sparked Up Like a Book of Matches

by CitrusVanille



Series: Video Killed the Radio Star [2]
Category: McFly
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-24
Updated: 2008-10-24
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: Tom makes it through the dressing room and out into the hallway without being stopped.





	Sparked Up Like a Book of Matches

Tom makes it through the dressing room and out into the hallway without being stopped, but he’s barely five steps away from the door when he sees Danny and Dougie heading towards him. He doesn’t even think, just whirls around and races in the other direction. He doesn’t know where he’s headed, doesn’t know his way around the venue – just vague directions between the stage, the dressing room, and catering – but he needs to find – something – somewhere.

The first two unmarked doors he finds are locked, but the third gives when he turns the handle, and he finds himself stumbling into what looks very much like a janitorial storage closet. He yanks the door shut behind him, which cuts off the only light source, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t care, just needs –

He gets his jeans open and down in record time, can’t be bothered to get rid of his boxers, just shoves his hand in, past the elastic waistband, and nearly sobs in relief when he gets his fingers around his cock. He jerks himself off roughly, fingers tight, twisting just a little over the head. The dry friction is almost painful, but so, so good. He can still see Harry in front of him – those fucking _eyes_ – can still hear his groan and –

“Oh – oh _fuck_ ,” Tom breathes, coming hard over his hand. He collapses back against the door, panting like he’s run a marathon and fucking _trembling_.

“Fuck,” he says again a few minutes later, when he’s come down enough for his brain to start functioning. And “ _Fuck_ ,” when it finally catches up to him what he’s just done. He’s pretty sure watching one of your best friends wank and then hiding in a storage closet to get yourself off to it is one of those things that sends you straight to the fifth level of hell, at least – not that he knows which level of hell is which, it’s been a long fucking time since he’s read Dante, but he’s sure the fifth level is pretty bad.

He takes a few long moments to panic, then tells himself firmly that there isn’t time for this now. They have a show. Someone will come looking for him. He really does _not_ want to be caught in a storage closet in ruined boxers with his jeans around his ankles. He can panic properly later, after the show, when he’s safely back in his hotel room. Right. Okay.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself and reaches out with his clean hand to feel for a light switch. And realizes he’s still holding the video camera. And the red ‘recording’ light is on. That. Can’t be good.

He bangs his head back against the door. “ _Fuck_.”


End file.
